B009KUWVHG EBOK

by Thornton, Stephanie

  “His heart might fail if you don’t put some clothes on.”

  I shot Justinian a pointed look, and he cleared his throat. “I see Narses told you about tonight—”

  “I haven’t decided on your punishment yet.” I kissed his nose and pointed to the waterfall of green silk cascading to the foot of my bed. Justinian fetched it and slipped the cool material over my head. “Don’t worry—I plan to be magnificent.”

  I held my arms out for slaves to drape me with an emerald chlamys so long that its ends tickled the nose of a mosaic lion underfoot, then pinned pearls to the silk veil tucked over my hair. I had forgone the offer of Justinian’s jewels—at my neck was only Severus’ amber cross, but even my sandals were studded with pearls.

  I could grow accustomed to such luxuries.

  Justinian and I waited for our guests in the atrium as the horizon swallowed the sun. Tasia fidgeted next to me, her hair brushed until it matched the silk of her stola and a new gold cat brooch with emerald eyes pinned at her shoulder. I’d spoiled her with enough gifts and trinkets for more than two children since we’d moved into the palace. Trinkets and baubles couldn’t make up for our lost years and her brother’s absence, but it was a welcome change to be able to buy her whatever my heart desired.

  Justinian’s sister arrived first, her ebony sedan so tastefully carved it might have passed for a merchant’s litter. Vigilantia took a slave’s outstretched hand and stepped down, a female version of her brother with his thick mane of dark hair. A well-dressed boy with scuffed knees trailed behind her and skidded to a stop before Justinian with a succinct bow.

  “Hello, Justin.” Justinian ruffled the boy’s hair and brandished a carved ivory soldier from his pocket. I felt a knife of grief that my son wasn’t here, that Justinian wasn’t able to talk to him as he did his nephew. “Your mother tells me you’ve been learning about military battles from the Golden Age. Which is your favorite?”

  The boy’s face lit with delight as he clutched the toy soldier. “Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon.”

  “I like the Trojan War,” Tasia piped up. “Especially the part with the Amazons.”

  “Both excellent battles.” Justinian winked at Tasia and gave his nephew’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “I believe this young lady has a fierce little patchwork lion as an accomplice, so watch out once you’re inside.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” Justin said.

  Tasia gave a little grin and scampered inside, then stopped and ran back to me. She threw her arms around my hips. “I love you, Mama.”

  “I love you, too, sweet pea.” My voice was husky as I kissed the top of her head.

  A slave girl waited for Vigilantia to kiss her son’s cheek, then herded the children off as Justin scrubbed away the imprint of his mother’s hennaed lips with the sleeve of his tunica.

  “Justinian.” Vigilantia kissed his cheek and turned to me. No one would call the woman pretty with her thick neck and square jaw, but her face was kind. “You must be Theodora. You’re a brave woman to take on all the family at once.”

  “Morituri te salutant,” I said. We who are about to die salute you. It was the salute of condemned prisoners from the Golden Age.

  Justinian choked and Vigilantia stared at me; then the jangling of the gold discs at her ears joined her laughter. “I like her, Brother. I only hope they don’t eat her alive.”

  Justinian squeezed my hand. “I’d certainly prefer to save the slaves the mess on the mosaics.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Vigilantia said. “Our aunt believes Justinian walks on water.”

  Justinian chuckled into the cool air. “That’s what I like my women to think.” Vigilantia and I rolled our eyes at each other, then laughed, but the racket at the gate made my heart stutter. The royal entourage.

  One hundred servants and slaves preceded the imperial sedan, blaring horns and tossing violet petals on the cobbles. Two slaves scrambled to open the doors of the gilded litter while more scurried to lay a carpet of new silk from the litter to where we waited. The Emperor emerged, the gold torques blindingly bright on his chest, followed by Empress Lupicina. Her plumage tonight was more gaudy than usual, a terrifying assortment of garnets, rubies, and carnelian that would have sent any self-respecting peacock into hiding.

  Things fell apart from the start.

  I shared Justinian’s lectus as slaves labored to carry gilded trays to the roof so we could enjoy the view of the Sea of Marmara. The last of the sun’s dying light turned the water to molten gold as pelicans swooped and dove into the harbor. I’d barely had time to peruse the menu this morning, but now I watched a parade of baked apricots oozing goat cheese and flecked with cinnamon, roast boar stomach stuffed with Lucanian sausages, and the delicacy of pale blue starling eggs served in their nests. Justinian served me himself, letting his fingers brush my hand every so often.

  Vigilantia leaned toward me as the wine was measured and poured and more torches were lit. “I’ve never seen Justinian so besotted,” she murmured into her cup. “It’s about time my brother found a woman to match him.”

  I didn’t have a chance to answer. Old Justin interrupted us as a slave cut a quivering bite of boar stomach, nibbled a piece from the point of his knife, and set the plate before the Emperor. “How do you like the Palace of Hormisdas, Theodora?”

  Slaves presented golden plates of baked red mullet for each of us. I’d never have guessed I’d dine on fish like those from Justin’s old pond, fattened on bread crumbs and tickled every day by slaves with nothing better to do.

  The mullet’s bones crunched between my teeth. “The palace is very comfortable,” I said.

  “Certainly more comfortable than a bench in a back room of the Kynêgion,” Lupicina muttered under her breath, so loud we could all hear. Her husband squeezed her hand and sent me an apologetic look.

  “As you would know,” I said.

  Lupicina sputtered, and Vigilantia grinned into her mappa.

  “Try the boar.” Justinian served the meat onto my plate as if he hadn’t heard me, but I saw the smile tugging his lips. “It’s delicious.”

  I’d anticipated trouble from the wrong corner. Vigilantia tried to draw the Empress into conversation about the recent chariot races, but Lupicina only pursed her lips and glowered at me over her starling eggs.

  My mouth was full when a slave delivered a large blue silk bag to Justinian. He pushed it across the couch to me. I arched an eyebrow, but he only smiled. “Open it.”

  The bag itself was a gift, embroidered with gold clovers so tiny that sparrows might have stitched it. I gasped at what was inside.

  Red sandals. The red sandals of a kyria.

  I could barely speak. “You didn’t.”

  Justinian shrugged, taking another bite of apricot as if he’d only handed me another helping of boar. “I delivered the parchment and lead seals proclaiming your elevation to the patrician class to the offices below the Hippodrome this afternoon.”

  So that was where he’d been.

  “You can’t do that!” Lupicina’s face was red as the mullet on her plate. Vigilantia sat back on her lectus as if ready to enjoy a show.

  The Emperor shifted on his couch as if sitting atop a bed of thorns. “Actually, my dear, it is well within a consul’s jurisdiction to elevate any worthy citizen to the rank of patrician.”

  Justinian looked at his aunt rather matter-of-factly. “It seemed only fitting that I make Theodora a patrician. That way I can marry her.”

  I narrowly avoided spewing boar across the garden. Lupicina was not so restrained.

  “You can’t marry her,” she screeched. “She’s a whore!”

  Her reaction was enough to make me want to shout my acceptance to Justinian’s proposal from the palace rooftop.

  Her husband patted her hand. “As were you, my dear.”

  It was no mean feat that the Emperor didn’t keel over and die with the look Lupicina leveled at him. “There is a law,” she said.

  Justin
ian scowled. “An antiquated law that serves no purpose.”

  “A man of senatorial rank, including a consul, cannot marry an actress even if she does become a patrician,” Lupicina said, and crossed her arms in front of her, looking smug. “It is forbidden.”

  Justinian leaned back on his couch. “That’s why I’d like the Emperor to change the law.”

  His uncle swallowed hard. I didn’t envy him, stuck like Odysseus between Scylla and Charybdis. He looked to me and tugged the droopy lobe of one of his giant ears. “Would you be amenable to such a marriage?”

  Lupicina threw her linen mappa to the ground. “Of course she’s amenable! Then she’ll wear the purple once we’re dead. I won’t have it!”

  I wished someone would shove the mappa down her throat. “I aim to serve the Empire and God.” Justinian coughed into his fist to cover his laugh. He knew by now that I served no one. I looked only at him. “I’d be honored to marry Justinian.”

  Justinian’s eyes softened, and he quietly slipped the gold ring over my third finger. Vigilantia gave a little squeal of glee, and Lupicina glared at us with lips sewn shut. Her joints creaked as she knelt before Justinian’s couch, clutched her nephew’s hand in her own, spotted and gnarled with age. “Justinian, you have your choice of any girl in the realm, certainly one blessed with modesty and chastity, a young woman still pert of breast with more years to give you the heir you deserve.”

  The dried-up hag thought me old. I was only nineteen.

  “You promised your support of whomever I chose to marry,” Justinian said.

  Lupicina snorted. “I had no idea you’d choose a washed-up theater tart.”

  Justinian’s eyes narrowed. “Theodora has already proven herself capable of bearing my children. Her daughter lives in my palace.”

  “Her daughter by another man!” Lupicina’s spittle dotted Justinian’s brown silk tunica. “She’s a whore!”

  Justinian flew to his feet, his shadow cloaking his aunt. “Theodora has maintained her grace and dignity despite her past misfortunes. God has blessed her.”

  Lupicina sniffed. “God’s blessing or not, you shan’t marry her and sully our family’s good name.”

  “Our good name?” Justinian laughed. “You were a whore, and my uncle herded swine!”

  The Emperor rose and cleared his throat. “I fear I’ve come down with a case of indigestion,” he said, threading his wife’s arm through his. “A shame as I was rather looking forward to the goat’s cream with orchid pollen. We’ll have to continue this lovely dinner another time.”

  Justinian, Vigilantia, and I bowed as etiquette demanded. Lupicina’s purple hem sailed past, and I barely resisted the urge to stick my foot out. I was surprised when the Emperor paused to clasp my hand. “It was lovely to meet you again, my dear.” I glanced up to see him watching Lupicina stalk away. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’ll have to bow to the Empress’ wishes. It’s safer for all of us that way.”

  He followed after his wife, but my skin prickled at Justinian’s next words.

  “She’ll pay for that.”

  Chapter 20

  SIXTH YEAR OF THE REIGN OF EMPEROR JUSTIN

  A nest of goldfinches hatched, fledged, and finally abandoned their perch outside my window as Justinian pressured his uncle to repeal the law, but to no avail. Winter etched a pale layer of lacy frost over the clutch of lonely twigs, and a single downy feather trembled in the chilly breeze. Behind the tree, a pillar of black smoke climbed into the blue sky, somewhere near Marcian’s Column. The same direction as Antonina’s flat. Another black snake of smoke emerged from its den in Blachernae and writhed upward.

  I rushed my morning prayers and hurried to find Justinian, but I found Narses first. “What’s burning?” I asked.

  He beckoned me past several crates of chickens to the kitchen. His voice was almost drowned out by the crackle of the cooking fire and the squawks of the birds waiting for a slave to snap their necks. “The city burns. For you.”

  The way he said it made it sound almost poetic. Almost, but not quite.

  “What?”

  “Justinian has ordered the Blues to be—” He seemed to search for the right word. “Disorderly.”

  “Where is he?”

  “On the roof.”

  Narses called after me, but I ignored him. The cold air braced me as I burst onto the roof terrace. Men swarmed Justinian. The color of their tunicas branded them as Blues, but they might have marched straight from the barbarian frontiers—unkempt beards hung to their chests in the Persian fashion, and their long cloaks, baggy trousers, and knee-high boots were positively Hunnic. All wore lethal-looking swords tucked into their belts.

  Justinian saw me and dismissed the men—some gazes lingered too long in my direction, but I looked down my nose at them.

  “Narses tells me you’re up to no good,” I said, gesturing in the direction of the smoke. The plumes continued to grow—I only wondered what the fires consumed.

  “Putting pressure on my uncle.”

  So Narses was right. This was for me.

  “By giving the Blues your blessing to wreak havoc?”

  Justinian looked out toward his handiwork. The smoke continued to curl like flags of death across the sky. “We’ve been patient long enough.”

  I had to know my son was safe. And Antonina and her children. “What are they burning?”

  “Empty storehouses.” Justinian caught my grimace. “No one will be hurt. This is only enough chaos for my uncle to relent.” He tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “Are you offended at such violence?”

  I watched the black columns eat the sky. “Will this get us what we want?”

  “Almost certainly.”

  “Then I’m not offended.”

  Justinian chuckled. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t be.”

  …

  The riots continued for days, gaining momentum as it became apparent no punishment would be meted out—the Emperor and the Sacred Palace were both strangely silent. Citizens barred their doors and markets closed as protection against the marauders. Not to be outdone by their sworn enemies, the Greens joined pillaging, so flags of smoke unfurled like goal markers on a tzykanion field each time one of the factions made a point.

  “This has to stop,” I told Justinian from my hands and knees, peering up from the blades of brown grass and dormant rosebushes. I’d lost Severus’ silver and amber cross and was furious at myself for being so careless, but even more troubled at the possible omen of losing God’s favor as the city around me burned. “If your uncle hasn’t given in by now—”

  “These things take time.” He looked at the hazy sky as if divining a message from God.

  “I heard talk of a woman who died yesterday.” Another bad omen. “You said no one would die.”

  “She was traveling from Chrysopolis to the mainland with her husband when the partisans intercepted them. They boarded the ship and asked the wife to join them. She jumped into the Bosphorus instead.”

  “Because she thought the Blues would attack her.”

  Justinian’s mouth was set in a firm line as he nodded.

  I brushed the dirt from my hands. “I’d have slit their throats instead.” Still, I felt a twinge of guilt. I wanted to marry Justinian, but the cost was high enough already.

  “I don’t doubt it.” He helped me to my feet. “I have something for you.” He pulled a delicate silver chain from his pocket, thin as a thread of silk. Hanging from the bottom was my amber cross.

  “Where did you find it?” I moved to grab it, but he dangled it out of reach.

  “Hanging from a rose branch.” He held up his battered hands. “I had to comb through half the bushes before I found it.”

  I caught the familiar inscription as Justinian clasped the necklace around my neck.

  Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.

  I loved this man, and I would be faithful to him unti
l the end of my days. Despite my best intentions, he’d captured my heart.

  “I don’t deserve you,” I said.

  His fingers traced the silver chain, then dipped lower as his lips grazed my throat. My stola slipped from my shoulder just as Narses burst into the garden.

  “Narses.” Justinian’s growl could have stopped a lion at twenty paces, but the eunuch only gave him a perfunctory bow.

  “Empress Lupicina is dead,” he said, straightening and crossing himself.

  A flock of sparrows swarming a bare apricot tree took flight, leaving a blanket of cold silence over the garden.

  “May God rest her soul.” A look of triumph flickered over Justinian’s face, so quick I doubted its existence. I shivered as I straightened my stola.

  “How did the Empress die?” I asked.

  Narses glanced at Justinian and back to me. “She was seized with a fit at dinner.”

  Neither of us spoke as Narses’ steps echoed down the stairs, but then Justinian cleared his throat. “I must go to my uncle, offer my condolences.”

  “Of course.” I’d half expected him to admit he’d had Lupicina strangled at the table or arranged a dash of wolfsbane to spice her dinner. I almost dared ask but swallowed the question.

  “Be ready to leave within the hour,” he said, his paludamentum billowing in the breeze.

  I contemplated assuming the full regalia of grief—plucking out my hair and wearing a black stola torn by my own hands—but decided a black wool tunica and wearing my hair loose were sufficient. I made sure the tunica wasn’t quite long enough to hide my red sandals Lupicina had so vehemently protested.

  My teeth jarred as broad-shouldered slaves carried Justinian’s sedan through the streets, the people parting like the Red Sea before Moses to let us through.

  I’d envisioned my first visit to the Sacred Palace amongst some sort of celebration or feast day, perhaps even my wedding. Instead, a heavy silence enfolded the white marble like a tomb for the living, its colossal porphyry pillars swathed in black silk. At the Chalke, the huge main gate topped with a gilded domed chapel, massive bronze doors engraved with giant crosses swung open. Guards fell into line behind us as we trod over more gold than King Herod might have possessed. The exquisite mosaics depicted an elephant impaling a lion, a plebian mother breastfeeding her infant, and a trained monkey knocking figs from a tree with a stick. Stern-faced statues lined the reception halls, some reputedly able to predict the future. We passed a library of silent scribes laboring over manuscripts, likely copies of treaties and missives from foreign rulers, before stopping outside the throne room. The ebony doors were open, and inside under a canopy of leafy golden trees with birds of hammered gold sat the Emperor, two gilded lion statues at his feet. I knew from Justinian that the creatures were mechanical, brought to life through the power of hidden water wheels, but today the beasts were cold and lifeless despite the winter sunlight streaming through the clerestory windows. The Emperor glanced up at our approach, his cheeks streaked with dried riverbeds of tears. I felt no grief for Lupicina, but my eyes filled for Justin. We can’t help whom we love.